Vera, Vera, Verita
by Socrates7727
Summary: Vera, Vera, Verita is like Muggle's truth or dare, except it's only truth. And, if you don't believe someone, you can call verita on them (basically BS) and test their answer with a tiny dose of Veritaserum. A quality party game, and definitely a good idea while drinking. HPDM hinted so far, warnings inside, M for mentions of torture and selfharm, potentially slash later on. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of torture, death, and non-hetero pairings. Idk what this is or where it came from, honestly, but I hope you like it! I plan for eventual HPDM and probably some Romione or some Hermione/Luna in later updates (assuming I actually end up updating, that is). Enjoy!

Update: Updated to be free of errors, second chapter coming soon!

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From the outside looking in, it seemed like a normal teenage party. There were red solo cups, there was dancing, there were people grinding on one another in semi-hidden alcoves that definitely should have been one hundred percent hidden. It was a party, no doubt about that. However, the far more interesting event was happening—not in the eighth year common room, but in the shared bedroom of Hermione, Luna, and Pansy. Currently, they sat in a circle. Hermione had dragged Harry and Ron into the game, Luna had brought Neville, and Pansy had coerced both Draco and Blaise into playing. None of them actually knew what the game was, though.

"Vera, Vera, Verita!" Groans came from the purebloods, and Draco tried to leave but Pansy shut him down with a glare. Harry tried to shoot Hermione a terrified look, but she was oblivious. And slightly drunk.

"It's like truth or dare, Harry," she mumbled, slurring the 's' a little bit. "Except it's just truths, and if someone thinks you're lying they can call verita, which is like BS, and you gotta take a drop of Veritaserum to prove you're telling the truth. Got it? Good." Harry did not have it—not at all—but everyone else seemed to understand and he didn't want to be the dumb muggle-raised wizard so he went along with it. Pansy volunteered to start.

"Something tame, something tame… Don't want to scare the kiddies off yet. Hermione! Have you ever cheated on a test?" The muggleborn's face flushed beet red almost instantly. Now that they shared a dorm, the three girls had gotten infinitely closer and Harry had no doubt that Hermione had shared that in confidence, but that only made it so much better.

"'Mione! After all those times you chewed me and Ron out for the exact same thing?!" She brushed him off, though, with a wave of her hand. Pansy refilled her cup.

"Yes, I have but it was only once! And it was in Divination, which isn't really even a class so it doesn't technically count. Besides, you and Ron were cheating practically every day. It's different. _Anyways_, Ron: vera, vera, verita?" Ron—poor, lightweight Ron—blinked at Hermione like she'd spoken to him in tongues.

"Um… I don't think that's something I'm supposed to pick?" Hermione flushed again and giggled, her voice slightly too high, but Pansy kept the alcohol coming with no end in sight. Harry supposed that he didn't mind. It was strange to see Hermione like this, but not bad necessarily.

"Oh, my bad. Who would you kiss if you had to kiss someone here?" Ron stumbled, but Harry managed to elbow him before the word vomit came. Thank Merlin… There would be no stopping that trainwreck once it started and Harry was not in the mood to do damage control.

"Prob'ly you…" Hermione grinned and Pansy nudged her, but the game continued before either could make much of it. Maybe Pansy was trying to set the two up? Little did she know how long Harry had been trying…

"Harry," Ron's face seemed more like a _save me_ expression than an inquisitive one, but Harry focused nevertheless. "Did you have a crush on Cedric in fourth year?"

"Didn't we all?" Harry whirled, shocked to see… Malfoy? Sure enough, it was Draco who had spoken and he snorted as he took another drink, but Blaise was already laughing and Pansy looked far too happy.

"Yes, Draco, all of us _straight_ people had very _heterosexual_ crushes on Cedric Diggory—but you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?" Draco rolled his eyes and sipped, but it was clear that Pansy had hit home. Whatever home was for that kind of topic. Was Malfoy gay? That seemed to be the implication but Harry couldn't be sure and Pansy was more than a little drunk so he decided not to take her word for it. It was worth investigating, though.

"Yeah, I did. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who didn't, Ron." The redhead huffed, but Harry barely noticed. It was his turn now—finally—and he knew exactly who to pick but he couldn't be blatant about it. Another question… One that wasn't as obvious as _oi, Malfoy, are you gay_?

"Malfoy," Silver eyes immediately locked on him, like the sight of a sniper rifle. "How old were you when you first drank alcohol?" No laughter at this one, but Harry hadn't wanted there to be. This was his compromise. It was still personal—incredibly personal for someone like Draco—but it wasn't too close to what he actually wanted to know. Either way, he learned something.

"I was eight." Harry stopped.

"I mean when you first _drank_ drank alcohol. Like to get drunk, not just a sip from your parent's glass." Draco raised one eyebrow at him, but now the attention was on him. Why was it on him!? Was it really that strange for him to clarify the question, especially if it wasn't that strange for Draco to answer like that?

"Eight, Potter. The answer is still eight." Harry couldn't help feeling like he'd just been slapped. The game went on and he vaguely heard Draco asking Blaise something about a chandelier being broken but his mind couldn't comprehend it. Draco had drank alcohol—truly drank—when he was eight years old. Something about that just felt… wrong. He found himself wanting to know everything he possibly could—who had given him the alcohol, what kind of alcohol, how much and how often and with who—but he also ached to forget it. The mental image of a little blond boy doing shots was not something he wanted to remember.

"Potter, you paying attention?" All eyes were on him, again, but he couldn't remember why. Blaise was looking at him funny, but it was Neville who was speaking and repeating his question.

"What did it feel like?" Instantly, Harry knew what Neville was referring to and he cursed the man for bringing it up. Internally, he swore. But, externally, he was being watched so he stiffened his shoulders and took a breath.

"What did what feel like, Neville?" He was going to make him say it. If Harry had to sit here and describe it, then Neville could at least name it in the question.

"Death." The room was suddenly silent. Only a very select few had been told about what had happened during Harry's apparent fall to the Dark Lord, and he doubted that any of the Slytherins even knew he had died. Draco certainly looked surprised, at least, and Pansy was doing another shot which was her version of coping. Deep breaths, in and out.

"Hot. It was really hot, like fire under your skin. And suffocating, even though there was no oxygen and no need to breathe. I don't recommend it." Silence hit his ears, but he was already moving on. Something—anything—to distract the group before the Slytherins thought too hard on what he'd just said.

"Pansy, what's the Cruciatus curse feel like?" It was a low blow and it wasn't something he was proud of, but he needed the attention off of him. Better Pansy than Hermione, at least. The witch frowned, though, and her eyes darted to the ground in a temporary moment of soberness that almost seemed out of character.

"I'm not the one you should be asking about that, Potter." Both she and Blaise looked at Draco, who had stiffened considerably on the floor. He chugged the rest of his cup when Harry made eye contact.

"Get it over with." Harry swallowed hard, but he already felt like this had been a mistake. Draco looked ready to kill and he was not in the mood for a duel, even if it had been a while. He was sick of violence, honestly, and he was sick of fighting Malfoy in particular.

"What's it feel like?" For the first time in history, Draco's face didn't change. His voice was low and level—detached, almost—and his eyes stayed focused on the floor at the center of the circle as he spoke. It was almost like a trance, in a weird way.

"It's like every single nerve in your body is being electrocuted. Like you're suffocating and drowning and burning to death all at once—but the worst part isn't the curse itself. It's the moments right after it's lifted. When everything is so, so cold that you think your body might have died without telling you. It's wishing, vaguely, for the curse back just to know that you're alive. When your limbs are stiff and frozen, even in the middle of summer, and you can't stop shaking long enough to sit up, let alone run. It's feeling that cold linger in your bloodstream years later. Wondering if part of you really did die with the curse, or if you're just used to it now." More silence. Somehow this game had gone from crushes to curses and Harry wasn't completely sure how they'd made that jump but he was starting to regret it. That little blond boy in his mind took another shot.

"Pans, who's better in bed: Blaise or Theo?" She groaned, and immediately the game was less serious again but Harry couldn't help dwelling on the past. He'd never seen Draco be so open before. Some part of him felt like he was watching a play—like this Draco couldn't possibly be real—but a much larger part of him felt… relieved? It didn't make any sense, but that was the best word for it. Why the hell was he relieved, though?

"Sorry Blaise, but you know I like to be in control and Theo was always just so pliable so… Theo. But, just for that, Drake! Who's better in bed: me or Blaise?" Draco was laughing, now, and Harry felt like he was on a rollercoaster he had not signed up for. That sound made his chest light, like he wasn't breathing, but god it was beautiful and he never wanted it to stop but—

"Wait a minute, you've all three slept with each other?" It was Ron, sounding incredulous, but the Slytherins were laughing together. It was enough to cover the sound of Draco's laughter, at least, and let Harry focus on what was being said. He needed another drink.

"Yeah, plus Theo. Slytherins don't really do relationships that often but we definitely know how to fuck." Both Blaise and Pansy were practically crying at the looks on the others' faces—particularly Neville—but Draco had managed to compose himself again. His calm, compared to the others, was almost worse. Why did looking at the blond suddenly feel like he was staring at an anchor or some kind of beacon? As if he could reach out and be saved?

"To answer the question, Pans," Draco shot a glare at the Slytherin girl, but it was joking. "You know better than anyone that I'm partial to guys so I have to say Blaise. Should have asked someone completely straight." Pansy pouted.

"But I've never slept with someone who was completely straight!" Another round of laughter and drinks, but Harry felt like the world was spinning out from under him. Draco preferred guys? Draco was gay, and since when? Since always? Was there… no, he was being stupid and there was no chance of anything happening because they were barely civil now, let alone friends. Still, that hope refused to die completely in his chest.

"Luna, you've been surprisingly quiet so far. Let's stick with a classic and say who's your crush?" The circle oo-ed and ah-ed but Luna didn't even blush. Maybe she was more confident with all of this than Harry had originally thought?"

"I don't have a crush," Pansy immediately started to boo, but she wasn't finished. "I have a girlfriend." Jaws actually dropped. Neville spit out his drink, poor guy, and Hermione looked completely scandalized that she hadn't known before everyone else, but Luna was completely calm.

"Who!?" She smiled, though, that sweet little smile.

"I believe that's two questions, Pansy. Now, who to ask… We haven't had to bring out the Veritaserum yet so let's try for something someone would never want to admit. Draco, you've been picked on enough recently let's go for… Ron. Have you ever used an Unforgivable Curse?" Beside him, Ron stayed calm but took another drink before answering.

"No, of course not."

"Verita." It was Draco who called the wizarding version of bullshit, and for a second the tension between the two was palpable. But, then Pansy was drawing a tiny vial out of her bag and gesturing for Ron to open his mouth.

"The dropper is shrunken so it gives an eighth of a dose, which should only last about two and half minutes. If you think you can outlast that, think again Ronald Weasley." Ron took the dose.

"Have you ever used an Unforgivable Curse, Ron?" It looked like Ron wasn't going to answer, but then his mouth opened and everything came pouring out like word vomit.

"Yes I used the killing curse during the final battle and I've used the cruciatus curse before but never imperius because that spider freaked me out in Moody's class and—"

"That's enough, Ron." His mouth shut with a snap, but Luna seemed pleased and so the game progressed. Pouting, Ron was allowed to ask his question through the Veritaserum.

"You three, show us your left forearms." Blaise frowned while Draco took another drink, but Pansy was shaking her head.

"Nuh-uh that's not how it works. You have to pick one." Ron scowled at her, obviously still a bit sore over the whole Veritaserum issue, but rules were rules. He pouted.

"Fine. You then, your highness." In one smooth motion, Pansy pulled up her left sleeve to reveal… nothing? Harry blinked, but sure enough there was just milky white skin and bluish veins—not a drop of ink, and certainly not a tattoo. What the hell? Everyone seemed to be on the same page with that, but Pansy didn't let the group get off track and immediately turned it onto Luna again.

"Luna, who's your girlfriend?" The Ravenclaw smiled. Her smile was so genuine and pure that Harry's chest ached just looking at it because it was very clear that she was in love with whoever this girl was. He was happy for her, honestly, but just as curious as the others.

"Ginny." Gasps rang out and Ron let slip a few choice words—evidently not aware of his sister's preferences—but the serum was wearing off so he was able to keep it under control. Thank god, Harry couldn't help thinking. Yet again, they'd somehow avoided a duel.

"Blaise, show your left forearm." Luna was apparently on the bandwagon, now, and the whole group seemed eager to see their Dark Marks, even if Pansy didn't have one. Blaise had been the one to tense when it was brought up, so Harry braced himself. Hopefully no anxiety attack. Blaise lifted his sleeve, though, and Harry leaned closer only… It was blank. There was nothing except skin.

"Wha—" Blaise jumped in before any questions could be asked.

"Pansy, who was your first kiss?" Clearly, the Slytherins were eager to keep the questions in their little group and Pansy caught on quick, drawing out her answer. The alcohol loosened her tongue, though, so she eventually let it slip.

"A Hufflepuff boy named Jameson who was in the year above us. Draco," So the pattern continued, all three of them teaming up to avoid what they knew was coming. "What's your favorite time of day?" Clearly, a horrible question. They were just stalling now and Blaise and Pansy both seemed completely set on dragging this out but Draco merely sighed. He seemed almost resigned, in a weird sort of way.

"Predawn, and you know that Pans. Hermione, why didn't you ever rat me out when you found me in the Restricted Section?" Was he trying to play up their relationship? Fall back on Hermione's love of books in the hopes that she wouldn't continue their pattern of questioning? Hermione actually hesitated for a moment, but Ron managed to nudge her.

"Because knowledge shouldn't be restricted," She sighed, almost wincing. "I'm sorry, but… Draco, show us your left forearm." The blond grit his teeth and down the rest of his drink but nodded, as if it was only fair. Half of Harry was hoping to see skin and be pleasantly surprised like he'd been before, but the other half could guess why Pansy and Blaise had teamed up to help him. There was no way that Draco had avoided the Mark—it wasn't possible. Still, he found himself sitting on the edge of his proverbial seat as Draco reached for his sleeve and yanked.

It was there.

The others all sucked in a breath when they saw it—black like tar, burned into his porcelain skin—but Harry was too focused. He'd seen the Dark Mark before and he'd seen it up close. That wasn't what interested him, though. Instead, his eyes drifted and settled on the raised little lines that ran through the Mark horizontally, almost as if… No. There was no way. He looked up to steely grey eyes, hoping for some kind of reassurance or denial, but Draco's face was empty. So it was true.

There, behind the Mark—though Harry was sure they'd been done after it had been given—were at least fifty thin, raised little scars. He might have thought they were from the sectumsempra incident but he knew better. Remus had had those marks before he'd died. One of the girls in his primary school had had marks like that up and down her arms and she'd called them beauty marks, but they weren't. They were self-harm scars.

"_I'm sorry_." Harry wasn't sure why, but his found himself mouthing the words at the blond across the circle. Even with everyone crowded in and staring, even with Blaise and Pansy trying to run interference, it managed to feel like they were alone. Like Draco was sitting across from him, completely vulnerable, and Harry was trying so hard not to fuck it up. The blond just shook his head, as if Harry was wrong to apologize.

"_Not your fault._" Before he could be sure what he'd lip-read, Draco was pulling his sleeve back down and the group was trying to tell him who to pick next. As usual, he ignored their pressuring.

"Harry," If anyone else noticed the suddenly shift to first names, they didn't mention it. "Tell us something you've never told anyone before." Harry wasn't sure why, but an answer immediately popped into his mind. He was going to search for something small, a detail that he'd managed to overlook in all their years of friendship, something he could use like a loophole of sorts, but Draco's face stopped him. The blond just looked so fucking vulnerable. Like he'd just been stripped bare in front of all of them, and was asking Harry to do the same. Dammit.

"Um, when I was six I got the flu and I accidently threw up on the carpet. My uncle broke a vase over my head. When I was finally okay enough to move around, he made me pick up all the pieces and glue them back together, but I got hundreds of little tiny cuts from the shards." Hermione and Ron looked livid, both having heard stories if not met the Dursleys, while the rest just looked horrified but Draco… Draco looked pleased. Not that he'd suffered, and not in a sadistic way, but more in the sense that Harry had put himself on the line too. Like they'd just taken a step towards friendship, or something.

"Harry, that's horrible." He didn't have the right mindset right now, though, for Hermione's coddling so he shrugged her off.

"It is what it is. Neville, what are the nightmares about? The ones where you wake up screaming?" The attention stayed on him for a beat or two of silence, but Harry was determined to shift the conversation. Slowly, they turned on Neville.

"Nagini and my parents, usually." That was answer enough and then the game was going again, taking a much lighter turn finally towards safer topics. Harry tried to listen—he really did—but the alcohol was starting to really hit him and Draco's eyes were on his skin, examining and studying in that way that the Slytherin always had. It felt good, honestly. For the first time since Harry had met him, Draco's scrutiny didn't feel invasive or dangerous. It didn't feel like he was looking for faults or weaknesses; instead, it felt more like he was just observing, looking for any sign that Harry wasn't okay or that something was wrong. Now, it felt oddly… caring.

"I think I'm done for tonight, guys." It was Hermione who was calling it, which wasn't really a surprise, but, given that they were in her room, that meant the party was over. For now, at least. As they all stood—some more steady than others—Harry couldn't help sneaking a glance at Draco. He seemed to be the most steady out of the three Slytherins, and again Harry's mind helpfully conjured up that image of an eight-year-old taking shots of firewhiskey. Now wasn't the time.

"Night girls." It was a chorus, once Harry said it, but Hermione was already collapsed on her bed and Luna seemed to be heading in that direction. Pansy was the one who cheerfully waved them off.

"See you tomorrow night for round two!"

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Thanks so much for reading! Please, please, please review especially since this is kind of a new... idk what to call it but I'm trying it out! Also let me know what pairings you want to see later? (Drarry is non-negotiable, sorry)


	2. Chapter 2

AN I do not own HP or any of the characters! Updated to (hopefully) be free of errors!

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Harry went into round two with a strategy: he was going to learn as much as humanly possible about Draco Malfoy, and then he would decide if he was going to let himself develop a crush. Not that his emotions had ever listened to him before, of course, but he could at least decide if he was at peace with the idea or not. He had a list of questions, pre-prepared and already written out in his mind, and he was ready. Firewhiskey or not, he was going to get the answers he came for. Gryffindors were stubborn, strong-willed, even a bit bull-headed and Harry was prepared to use every single one of those traits to get exactly what he wanted to know out of the blond—until he walked into the room.

The eighth year Slytherins did not have class on Saturdays—no one did—but Harry honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any of the Slytherin Trio outside of regular school activities. It was stupid to have expected them to show up in their full school robes, especially because no one else had, but Harry could have handled Blaise and Pansy in casual clothes… It was Draco who caught him off guard.

Never, in all his years of life, had he seen the blond in anything but pristine robes and uniform, save that one time in the bathrooms. It occurred to him that he had no idea what pureblood wizards even wore when they were being casual. There was no party tonight, so everyone was much more relaxed. Pansy was in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, Blaise was wearing _jeans_ for Merlin's sake, but Draco… Draco Malfoy sat there, cross legged on the floor, in a dark pair of sweats and a grey, long sleeve shirt advertising a Quidditch team that Harry had never heard of. He looked so… _not_ Draco.

"Skrewt got your tongue, Potter?" They were back to last names. As much as he tried to pretend that he wasn't disappointed by it, Harry still had to shuffle a bit to get his expression under control. Something about seeing Draco in clothes that were so clearly casual and domestic was like visual amortentia. For a split second, his mind gave him the beautiful suggestion of waking up to that sight—but Harry squashed it immediately. He didn't know enough yet.

"Who's first?" Somehow, during his little mental monologue, Pansy had managed to get drinks in front of all of them and was now addressing the group. It was still early—only eight pm—but no one seemed to care. The dark, quiet sort of weight in the room made it feel like they were alone, floating without time or interruption.

"Neville should start because he ended last time." A hum of agreement rippled through their little group, and Pansy cast a silencing spell on the room before procuring the veritaserum bottle. It was so small for something so dangerous…

"Draco," Immediately, the conversation had Harry's full attention. "Have you ever killed anyone?" Collectively, they all sucked in a breath. That was a rough question to lead with, but Neville clearly still harbored more than a few hard feelings from their previous years and no one was going to intervene. Not when it was a former-Death Eater who was taking the beating.

"No." Harry had yet to touch his drink and he was putting all of his effort into paying attention, noting every little expression or change that came over the blond. Draco was completely still and calm, but he saw Pansy subtly take his hand and squeeze.

"Verita." It was Ron who called bullshit, and again the tension between them leaked out into the air. Had something happened? Harry couldn't remember anything bad, or at least not anything recently, but there was clearly a lack of love between the two. Wordlessly, Draco opened his mouth and accepted the dose.

"Draco," Neville tried again. "Have you ever killed anyone?" Just for a moment, it seemed like the blond was going to fight the serum. He tensed, but then quickly gave into it and let his mouth open the way Ron's had so ungracefully done the night before.

"No, I've never killed anyone because that wasn't my job. The Dark Lord loved killing, especially muggles, and only he, Nagini, or Aunt Bella were ever allowed to kill anyone." If Harry let himself stare long enough, he saw a bit of shakiness in Draco's body language. Was it possible that he was upset? For anyone else, it would seem natural to be emotional talking about Voldemort or killing but for Draco's cold, harsh demeanor that just didn't seem to fit. Ron, however, was not going to leave it at that.

"Then what did you do for him?" Pansy tried to butt in—she really did—and Blaise protested that that was more than one question but Draco's drugged lips were already speaking.

"I tortured, mostly, and I got information—"

"That's enough, Draco." Instantly, like he'd been reprimanded, Draco snapped his mouth shut with a clack. He glared at Ron, and at Neville for asking him in the first place, but motioned for Pansy to take his turn and ask a question. With glee, she turned on the rest of them.

"Who shall we pick… Potter! You haven't even touched your drink, I think that calls for a question or two. Bottoms up! Can you really talk to snakes?" Of course. It was only a matter of time before the whole Parselmouth issues came up, but at least it wasn't something that Harry genuinely did not want to share with the group.

"Yes, I can." Before he could even protest, a tiny garden snake had been brought out from a box beneath Pansy's bed. So she'd been prepared for this… Interesting.

"Make it do something." Harry was going to start on a rant about how he couldn't _make_ the snake do anything short of listen to him if it didn't want to, but he saw the empty cup beside the Slytherin and thought better of it. Maybe Pansy would have listened when she was sober, but definitely not when she was tipsy. Instead, he just turned to the snake.

"_Hello, my name is Harry. Would you like to come closer and introduce yourself?_" Instantly, the little snake's head snapped up to stare at him, and the group ah'ed at it. Poor thing, Harry couldn't help thinking. How long had Pansy kept it under her bed like that, just waiting for this moment?

"_We all know you, Mr. Potter. My name is Selik_." Harry gave the little snake a smile and offered his hand, which Selik leisurely coiled himself around as if to take a nap. Pansy was in awe, and both Luna and Hermione—who, Harry realized, had never actually seen him interact with a snake before—looked stunned. Even Blaise seemed impressed, but Harry's focus was on Draco. The blond looked less than amazed, but Harry couldn't tell if it was because he was bored, unimpressed, or if it was because another emotion was covering it.

"_Nice to meet you, Selik. Tell me, where did Pansy find you?_" Selik huffed at the mention of his captor, but settled his head back into the crook of Harry's palm before Pansy could catch on to their topic of choice. Draco was watching, silver eyes wide, but Harry couldn't read his expression. Why were his cheeks so flushed, suddenly?

"_A pet store, I believe. She told the owner that she was going to feed me to her owl._" Harry frowned, but the entire group was transfixed now, hanging on his every breath, so he didn't interrogate further. He would later, though.

"_I'm sorry about her. Would you like to stay with me until we can figure out a home for you?_" Selik did not reply, but his little head relaxed into Harry's palm and he seemed to be asleep. That was a yes, right? Regardless, Harry didn't get long to ponder the little snake's response because Draco was on his feet, muttering about refills or ice, and then he was gone.

"What's with him?" Pansy shrugged, even when Luna shot her a look that seemed pretty close to the visual equivalent of 'bullshit,' but of course Ron was willing to comment.

"Well he _is_ a Slytherin. There was always a running bet that Parseltongue was one of his kinks." Pansy snorted so hard she choked on her drink, and the rest of the room laughed, but Blaise was silent. Harry tried to focus on making his blush go away by zeroing in on the blond's best friend.

"Blaise? What's with Draco?" If anyone else noticed the first name, they didn't comment. Blaise, however, looked up at its use and seemed to consider Harry for a moment. Was he deciding if Harry deserved to know? He could see, even now, that Blaise and Pansy were both very protective of the blond but that didn't make this particular situation any easier to understand. Slowly, Blaise seemed to decide.

"You should know better, Pans…" Pansy frowned, but clearly didn't know why. "The Dark Lord lived with the Malfoys for almost three years. I imagine that _He _is the only person Drake's ever heard speak in Parseltongue and, needless to say, there aren't a lot of good memories there." Harry felt his stomach flip. It was just Parseltongue, and talking to Selik was harmless, but he hadn't even considered the fact that Voldemort had also been a Parselmouth. He knew it, of course, but the fact that Draco had lived with the man for almost three years still didn't seem possible. Of _course_ Draco had horrible memories associated with that language. Merlin, Harry was so _stupid_!

"Um, 'Mione you can ask my question. I forgot to put a locking charm on our room, I'll be right back." Ron and Neville groaned at him, clearly not understanding, but Hermione nodded. Harry vaguely heard her choose Luna before he was out the door and in the eighth year common room, trying to figure out where the hell Draco would go if he was upset. Only one place seemed to fit…

The eighth year common room was about as far away from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as one could possibly get. Sometimes, Harry wondered if the professors had done that on purpose, given how many of them had gotten into some kind of trouble in that bathroom over the years. However, it was the only place Harry could think of so he set off. A small invisibility charm hid him from Mrs. Norris, thankfully, but Harry rushed because he knew it wouldn't work on Filch or Snape if either of them decided to wander the halls at this time of night. He cursed himself for not bringing his cloak or, at the very least, the map.

None of that mattered, though, the second that Harry slid into the bathroom. It was silent, aside from the echo of Harry closing the door, but he knew instantly that it wasn't empty. Someone was there, and he was willing to bet a thousand galleons that it was Draco. Still, he couldn't help remembering the last time he'd snuck up on the blond when he was emotional and the consequences that had come as result, so he decided to announce his presence.

"Draco? I know you're in here." There was no reply, but Harry was content that he wouldn't startle the blond so he stepped further into the room. Sure enough, Draco was there. He was not, however, bent over the sink and hyperventilating like he'd been last time.

"Hey." It felt weird to hear such a casual greeting from the blond, after all this time, but it felt even weirder to see him sitting on the tile floor in a long sleeve T-shirt, arms wrapped around his knees. Draco wasn't shaking, or even crying, but honestly Harry would have felt better if he had been. At least, then, he would have been familiar with the situation. This Draco… This one he had absolutely no idea what to do with.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" The blond just shrugged, but motioned to the floor. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think—"

"You didn't know." Harry blinked. He'd been expecting Draco to deny that anything was even wrong, or to argue and say that it was all his fault, but he hadn't been expecting something so… forgiving. Was this even the same boy he'd gone to school with? Slowly, Harry lowered himself onto the tile and leaned back against the wall, mirroring Draco's position but keeping a good six inches between them. Draco may have been different, now, but that didn't make them friends. Not yet, at least.

"You okay?" Harry couldn't help it. The words just slipped out, fast enough to be drugged out of him, but Draco didn't even flinch. After a beat or two of silence, Draco nodded.

"Yeah, I was never _not_ okay I just… wanted some air." Right. Air. Because running away the second Harry spoke in the language that Draco associated with Voldemort was definitely the kind of thing that required oxygen and open spaces. It was understandable, but Harry felt like it wasn't the whole truth.

"Sorry, do you want me to leave?" At that, Draco hesitated. Harry had been expecting an immediate yes—actually, he'd been ready for Draco to curse him for even daring to follow him—but Draco merely looked him up and down. Was it some kind of threat assessment?

"No, you can stay." Well, that was certainly a turn of events. He would have been lying if he'd said that he was ready for Draco to ask him to stay—thought he wasn't really asking, so much as tolerating. Still, it managed to stun him speechless for a moment. Or many moments. Long enough, apparently, that Draco got tired of the silence and opened his mouth again.

"It was trained to his voice, you know," Harry looked over to the blond, who was staring at the floor. "Or at least that's what we were told. He could call us with just a few hisses, and he could make it burn like acid if he was displeased. It wasn't hard, either. Two little sounds and he could bring someone to their knees with pain. He could keep you there for as long as he wanted, too, without using up any of his energy or his strength. Useful, for someone like him. Terrifying to anyone who had it, though." This was a dangerous subject. Harry could feel it, heavy in the air like fog, and he knew he shouldn't pry but he was curious. This was the first time Draco had ever openly shared anything with him—ever—and, after all, he had come with a list of questions.

"What do you mean?" Those silver eyes flicked up, and immediately Harry wanted to run. There was something incredibly visceral about the emotion in Draco's face and it made his stomach churn just looking at it. What in Merlin's name could make someone as stoic as Draco Malfoy look like that? But he got his answer. Very, very slowly Draco uncurled himself to sit cross legged again and pushed up his left sleeve.

Even now, the Dark Mark never failed to surprise Harry. He'd seen it at least a hundred times—on others, if not on Draco himself—but somehow the way the black smeared against that pale skin was so much worse than any of the others. Here, in the light, Harry could clearly see the self-harm scars. Why was Draco showing him this, though? Was it because he'd already seen it so it didn't matter anymore? Technically everyone in the group had seen it, but the blond still wore long sleeves.

"He controlled it with his voice. None of us ever knew what he was saying, but we knew right away if we were the target of his rage and Merlin help you if you were…" Draco trailed off, running his thumb halfheartedly over the Mark as if he could wipe it off. "I don't care that you can speak Parseltongue. I knew you could." Maybe that was what was bothering Harry so much. Draco had been there in the Great Hall with Snape when he'd talked the snake down; Draco had heard him speak Parseltongue and he hadn't cared. True, that was before Voldemort but still…

"Why did it bother you, then?" Beside him, Draco let out a long sigh. Harry knew he was probably pushing this issue too hard and he knew that they should get back to the group before someone came looking for them but he was intoxicated—not by the firewhiskey, but by Draco. He'd never seen the blond so raw, so real, before, and he wanted to know everything.

"It wasn't the Parseltongue that bothered me, it was that I _felt_ it." Wait, what? For a solid ten seconds, Harry was sure that he had to have heard wrong because there was no way in hell that Draco had just said those words in that order. He'd… felt it? What was that supposed to mean? How did you _feel_ words?

"You… what?" Harry wanted to look up, to examined Draco's face and find some kind of proof that he was lying or at least kidding somehow, but his eyes were locked on Draco's arm. Every slow, gentle pass of the blond's thumb over the Mark was hypnotizing. The way it caught and jumped over each ridge of scar tissue was beautiful in a horrible, twisted way—not because it was good, but because it was real. This Draco was real. No posturing, no fancy displays of wealth, no attitude, just a human being. This was the Draco that Harry was quickly developing a crush on.

"I felt it. Not the same way, obviously, but I doubt you were telling that little snake commands that would cause pain or call your followers. I just… I wasn't expecting that." Understandably so! Harry was having trouble processing and he wasn't even the one with the magic snake tattoo on his arm. Draco had felt his words… But that still raised the question: how the hell do you _feel_ words?

"What does it feel like?" Again those silver rings snapped up to stare at him, but Harry wasn't scared anymore. This Draco wasn't a threat. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Draco never really had been a threat—at least not to him. He'd been annoying, and he'd been a little shit over the years, but he'd never been a physical threat the way Harry was used to. Not like Dudley or Uncle Vernon.

"I… don't know how to describe it. It was weird, and faint, but I was trying not to listen so that probably affected it. Warm, I guess?" Draco's voice was remarkably steady given the situation. Personally, Harry felt like he might pass out or scream at any given moment because he was struggling to comprehend the fact that he'd just made the Dark Mark _do_ something. Merlin knows he didn't need another connection to that psycho. Still, he found himself focusing on the blond beside him rather than on his own anxiety and it was kind of nice to have a distraction.

"I'm sorry." But Draco was already shaking his head, eyes back on the floor.

"No, don't be. You didn't know and it's not like you hurt me. I just didn't think I would ever feel anything in the Mark again and I know it was you but, just for a split second, I thought…"

"That he was back?" Draco nodded. "Yeah, I'm the same way when my scar hurts, even if I just have a headache." It didn't occur to Harry that he was sharing way too much, or that he'd strayed pretty damn far from his list of pre-prepared questions during this little conversation. The only thing that managed to get through his haze of whatever the hell drug he was currently experiencing—dopamine, what have you—was the thought of the rest of their group searching for them.

"We should get back." Draco took the words right out of his mouth, but Harry didn't comment. It didn't feel as strange as it should have, and it didn't have that shock value that it normally did when someone unpredictably finished his sentences or his thoughts. Why not, though?

"Yeah, don't want Blaise to sick Pansy on me anytime soon." He earned a small chuckle for his efforts. But, suddenly, that was the single best sound that he'd ever heard and he ached to hear it again. It would be too awkward and too soon, though, to make another joke so he just offered the blond a hand up. At no point did his mind realize what he was doing. Draco hated to be touched—he knew that, everyone knew that—and Harry was definitely not one of the exceptions but, before he could even apologize, Draco took the hand.

God he was warm. That was the only thought that Harry could process until their hands separated and they began to walk. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why he'd expected Draco's hands to be cold, but he had and he was so, so wrong. Touching Draco was like touching the air around a furnace. Dangerous, yet so _alive_ it was almost worth it. Almost.

"If you ever want to talk," What the hell was he doing!? "You know, about the Mark or test it for your own peace of mind, just let me know." Harry had officially lost control of his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure that someone hadn't dosed him with Veritaserum before he'd left and he braced for a hex or a punch to the face but Draco just hesitated. Then, he smiled.

Harry was _so_ in over his head.

"Yeah, that might be nice sometime. Thanks, Potter." The last name stung, Harry couldn't lie, but he caught the little smirk that Draco put behind it. Almost like it was a joke, rather than an insult. Were they joking with each other now? Merlin, that felt dangerously close to flirting and there was no way that Harry's hormonally charged brain could handle that sort of thing right now.

"Welcome, Malfoy." He smiled, too, and then they were inside and returning to the group as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. Harry wasn't really sure what _it_ was or how he'd managed to get himself into that situation but he was also ninety percent sure that he and the blond were on their way to becoming friends, if not more. No! Not more, because Harry didn't know enough to make that decision yet. It didn't matter, though, because his mind had already made the decision for him and _Merlin_ he had a crush on Draco Malfoy.

Dammit.

"Welcome back, boys, have a little fun on the way back?" Pansy was clearly drunk now, but Harry still flushed bright red at the insinuation. With a roll of his eyes, Draco plopped back down beside her.

"Watch yourself, Pans, or next time it's my turn I'll bring up the peanut butter incident." Instantly, the entire group was intrigued. Pansy glared and blushed but Harry was just so glad to have the attention off of them. He knew that walking in with Draco was a bad idea. It made the whole situation look much worse, and yet, he'd done it anyways. Even with the commotion, Draco managed to catch his eye across the circle. Harry tried his hardest to shoot a look of appreciation, but Draco just gave him a tiny smile and a nod before turning back to Pansy, who was now draped dramatically across his lap in a plea for forgiveness. Laughing, they got back on track.

"I believe it was Ron's turn." Of-fucking-course it was Ron's turn. As if their little game didn't have enough drama already, they had to jump right back into whatever rivalry was going on between the blond and the redhead.

"Draco," No surprise there. "I have an honest question for you. Genuinely, why did you throw Harry your wand during the final battle?" Clearly, that question blindsided their entire group. For a second, everyone just stared at the redhead, but he was serious so the eyes slowly turned to Draco. That… was actually a really good question. Harry had never even stopped to consider why Draco had thrown him his wand, he'd just assumed that there had been no other choice. He'd assumed that Narcissa and Lucius were both dead at that point—Draco's only reason for fighting—but they'd both lived. And Draco knew that they'd both lived. So why had he changed sides so suddenly?

"I don't know, honestly. I mean, fuck, I pretty much doomed everyone I'd ever cared about in that one choice. But I don't know why…" Ron opened his mouth to call Verita, but Draco wasn't done and suddenly those silver rings were on him, hot as molten mercury. "Maybe I believed in the Savior for a few seconds, too; maybe I hoped it would save me." There was absolutely no question, now, how their little game had become so dark so quickly. The room moved on, and Draco asked something of Luna that Harry didn't catch because his mind was reeling.

Just for a second, a tiny fraction of a moment, he could have sworn that he saw Draco's lips make a sound that wasn't heard: _maybe I believed in the Savior, maybe I hoped he would save me_. Had Draco really thought that? Or even said that? It seemed too good to be true but it certainly wouldn't have been the strangest thing to happen that night. Merlin… Harry shook his head and forced himself to focus on the game.

"Pansy, what's in the box you keep hidden under your bed?" It was Luna who was dishing out the dirt, now, but Pansy had had far more to drink than the rest of them and she erupted into a fit of giggles before she could even answer.

"A different- _hicc!_ Kind of snake." Blaise smacked her on the arm and Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry still found himself laughing. If only Selik had known. He wasn't surprised, really, but there was something about being in a tipsy group that made everything funnier. Pansy, however, was taking back her role as interrogator.

"Eenie, meenie, minie… moe. Neville, oh Neville, my brave snake slayer. Tell us: if you had to date someone in this room—no, scratch that, a _guy_ in this room—who would you pick and why?" Every single one of them watched Neville's eyes pan around the room. Harry knew better than anyone that Neville was completely straight, and he could also guess at the crush that Neville had had on Luna since their third year. He would pick either Ron or Har—

"Draco." The group audibly gasped. Pansy feigned a dramatic spit take and nudged Draco, but all eyes were on Neville still.

"And why, sweet Neville?" By now, the Gryffindor was beat red. Harry felt a stab of pity because he could imagine himself in that situation—that exact situation, actually—but it wasn't enough for him to step in. The rules were the rules, he had to answer.

"Because... I don't know, I feel like Slytherins are this bitchy assholes but, if you somehow make it into their inner circle, I feel like they'd be really loyal. And since Draco is the bitchiest of the two guys, I feel like he'd also be the most loyal." Various hums and nods from the rest of the group, but Harry was thinking. He'd never imagined Draco that way—or any of them, really—but he'd also never really imagined them any _other_ way. Maybe it was the Slytherin in him coming out. Some part of him just innately understood that Draco was the kind of person who demanded that you earn his trust, who was picky about who he let into his life, but who was diehard devoted to anyone who passed. Was Harry that way?

"Uh… Luna, if you weren't with Ginny would you ever date a guy?" Ah, so Neville was not one for subtly. Thankfully, the only Ravenclaw in their midst didn't seem to catch on and she responded cooly that she loved people, regardless of gender. Hopefully Neville didn't take that to mean that there was hope for them.

"Blaise, rank everyone here on a scale of one to seven from best to worst." Whoa! Luna was coming out with the big guns, blatantly dividing the group, but Blaise took it in good humor. He grinned and down his drink.

"Based on what? Like attractiveness? As a person? What am I ranking?" Luna shrugged, but Pansy jumped in before the decision could be left up to Blaise.

"As a person." Well, that settled that. There was no way that this was going to be a fun, lighthearted round—friendships were going to end, potentially.

"Well one I'd have to say Drake; he's my best friend, we've grown up together, and if I didn't hate my family I'd call you my brother. Two for you Pans, because you're my second best friend and we've slept together like twenty times. As for the rest of you…" Blaise paused, now, as if meeting the rest of the group for the first time and having to make snap decisions.

"Three for you Luna, because you seem pretty genuinely cool. Four for you, Harry, because you're one hell of a seeker. Five for Hermione, because you're the reason I passed Potions last year, six for Neville, because that thing with the snake was pretty cool. And seven for you, Ron, no hard feelings." Ron huffed, but Hermione shoved him hard enough to get him to stop before a fight ensued. It was really only fair. Out of everyone, Ron was the main opponent of Slytherin and, somehow, had become even more of their rival than Harry was. When had that happened?

"Harry, what to ask, what to ask…" As if on cue, Pansy leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Perfect! Harry, tell me, I was wondering, in your opinion—ow! Pans, Merlin fine. What's the sexiest thing about a guy?" Harry was sure that he'd heard wrong. He definitely had. There was no way in hell that Blaise had just asked him what he found sexiest about guys in front of all these people. Right?

"You mean a girl?" Blaise grinned, though, and Pansy clicked her tongue at him.

"Question has been said, you have to answer it. Unless you're scared, Potter." It was joke, he knew that now, but he was much more focused on the question. The sexiest thing about a guy? God, Harry was suddenly hyper aware of Draco sitting across the circle from him, watching and waiting for his answer, and he couldn't make his mouth form words. Were guys even sexy? Wait, scratch that, Draco was sexy so what was the best part about him?

"The eyes." Blaise oo-ed and Pansy giggled but thankfully no one seemed to notice the flash of eye contact between him and Draco. Just a second, but Harry was already reading way too far into it. Had Draco winked? Or was it just a twitch? Had his eyes softened when he'd looked at Harry or had Harry imagined that? There was no way that anything could happen between them and yet…

"Neville, what was your first impression of Ron, 'Mione, and me?" Dumb question, Harry thought, but he couldn't get over the fact that Draco was _still_ looking at him. Neville, at least, seemed relieved that it was a nice question and not something worse; Harry had just given him another opportunity to go for Draco's jugular, though, and he cursed himself for it. It was bad enough that Draco was already getting singled out, he didn't need to add to it.

"Uh, just remember that we're all great friends now, yeah? 'Mione, no offense, but I kind of thought you were annoying and bossy. Harry, I was kind of disappointed when I met you because I'd grown up hearing stories about you and you were just a normal kid like me but I'm glad, now. I like you better this way. And Ron… Ron, I'm sorry, but when I first met you I thought you were dumb. But you're not! None of you are any of those things."

Neville tried to cover his tracks, but the damage had been done. Ron and Hermione looked on the angry side of annoyed, but Harry was still focused on the blond. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake the feeling of those silver eyes on him. It was like before. Their gaze felt more protective, like Draco was watching him to check on him not to find a weakness, and Harry caught himself actually starting to like it. What was wrong with him!?

"Draco," Of course—fuck, it was going to be a disaster all over again. "You never faced the boggart in our third year with the class, but I know that you did it after because you still got a good grade. What was your boggart?" Draco was calm—Harry was beginning to learn that Draco was always calm when he was the one put under pressure—but Pansy and Blaise both shifted closer to the blond. It was them that Harry had to watch for a reaction, he'd learned. Blaise swallowed hard, but Draco merely took a breath.

"My father." Harry could tell that everyone in the circle wanted to ask why. Hell, even _he_ wanted to ask why and listen to the entire story so long as Draco talked to him like he had in the bathroom. No anger, no lying, just honesty. That was the kind of thing that Harry could fall in love with. Not that he wanted to, of course. Falling in love with Draco Malfoy would be a disaster in and of itself, without adding in the drama of everyone else's reactions. Dammit, he was already talking as if it was inevitable.

"It's getting late. A group question to close out the night, Pans?" Pansy nodded her consent, as unofficial game director, so Draco continued. "To the group, then: who here has had sex?" All three Slytherins raised their hands—no surprise there, considering they'd slept with each other—but everyone turned in absolute shock when both Luna and Hermione raised their hands.

Harry wanted to splutter and demand to know the whole story from both of them, but his focus, as always, was on Draco. The way that the blond confidently held up his hand, completely unashamed and unembarrassed when Harry couldn't even think the word without flushing. God, he was intoxicating… Worse yet, it was clear that he was starting to realize the effect he had on Harry.

"That's all for tonight, folks." They stood, even as Draco practically carried Pansy to her bed. She hiccupped and giggled, wiggling just to make it difficult for the blond, but Harry got the impression that he'd carried a drunk Pansy before. He was good at it, regardless. Once she was safely in bed, though, she bid them farewell.

"See you tomorrow for round three!"

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Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it and please, please, PLEASE review! It seriously means the world to me!


	3. Chapter 3

AN I do not own HP or any of the characters! This round is more Romione and Drarry focused but they won't all be. It's also super late and I wanted to post this because I just finished it but there are probably errors and I promise I will be back to fix them soon! Enjoy!

Update: hopefully free of errors now! Enjoy!

* * *

It was Sunday night. No one in their right mind would get wasted on a Sunday night—Hermione had told them that multiple times already, and yet she was still sitting there on the floor with the rest of them. They were waiting for Pansy, or at least that's what someone had said, but Harry wasn't exactly paying attention. As per usual, his eyes were drawn towards Draco.

Currently, Harry's entire mind was occupied by the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting across the circle from him… in Blaise's lap. Somehow, no one was questioning the situation. Pansy wasn't there yet but Hermione and Luna both hadn't even spared a glance, which suggested that this was not an uncommon occurrence. That was even more confusing, though.

Draco was sitting cross legged in sweats and a long sleeve T-shirt, as always, but now Blaise was wrapped around him like a second shirt. Arms tight around Draco's midsection, face tucked into the hollow of the blond's throat, Blaise looked like he was holding an albino teddy bear. It was ridiculous, and yet Harry still felt a pang of jealousy.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome weaklings and weirdos!" Pansy, of course, waltzed in without batting an eye. The attention of the room, however, immediately went to the crate in her arms. She looked _far_ too happy…

"Glad you could finally join us, Pans. What's in the box?" She looked to Blaise, but if she saw something out of the ordinary she didn't react to it. Instead, she pulled out eight wine glasses.

"Thank you so much for asking, Blaisey Boy. For any of you uneducated folks, these here are premium, stolen wine goblets that I nicked from the kitchen. I have a little… extra special challenge. Consider it a bonus round." Intrigued, their little disbanded oval of a group quickly became a tight circle.

"Bonus?" Ron was already reaching for one of the bottles in the crate, but Pansy swatted his hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah! Not yet, Ronald. In this box, I have no less than _ten _bottles of wine—five cheap, and five expensive. I charmed the labels so don't worry, I don't know which ones are which either '_Mione_, but we all get to taste and guess. You have to guess if it's cheap or expensive, and you have to guess the type of wine. Get it right? Nothing happens. Get it wrong, though, and you have to do a half dose of veritaserum at the end—and we can ask you anything. Got it? Great, let's start." The second the instructions finished, Blaise and Hermione cheered but he distinctly heard Draco whisper _fuck_ under his breath.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Afraid of ruining your rich boy palate?" But Blaise snorted so hard that beer came out his nose.

"No, he knows he's going to lose." The rest of the group didn't really seem to care, but Harry was hanging on the Slytherin's every word. Draco was going to lose? Why would he lose?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco rolled his eyes, but Pansy had joined the conversation now and they were both laughing.

"He's gonna lose because Drake only likes cheap, shitty wine and he doesn't have any kind of aristocratic palate." She laughed, pouring about twice as much into her own glass than any other, but Draco wasn't really annoyed. It was kind of amazing, actually, how quickly Harry had learned to read the blond's expression. Maybe he'd always been able to? Regardless, he knew him well enough to see the smile Draco was hiding.

"Shove off, you idiots." But Draco was laughing, too, and the glass in his hand was suddenly empty now which always made his face a bit more expressive. Had the Slytherins all pregamed without them? As much as he wanted to be mad about it, Harry couldn't lie that a tipsy Draco was much more fun to observe.

"Not my fault that it's all you could steal from your parents before you joined us…" Blaise trailed off, snickering, but Draco just shoved him. Harry was distracted, though. His mind gave him that horrible mental image that had been haunting him since their first round—a little blond boy, dressed in a crisp white shirt and taking shots on the floor of a kitchen. Now, though, the little boy was chugging blood red wine. Harry hated it.

On their very first sip, both Blaise and Pansy spat the drink back into their glasses. Draco downed the entire thing without even blinking.

"I guess that answers the expensive vs. cheap part, huh?" Draco glared, but even Ron was chuckling now. There was something inherently funny about the aristocratic blond enjoying cheap wine—or even preferring it. It was barely even a quarter of a glass, but Draco was already starting to giggle under his breath.

Four bottles in, that image was still stuck in his mind. Pansy and Blaise, to no one's surprise, had yet to get a penalty but, shockingly, Luna was also killing it in the competition. She said she could taste the 'soul' of the wine. Hermione had gotten about half the points so far—she could guess the quality, but not the name—but she made the rest of them look bad. He, Neville, and Ron were failing horribly. All of his attention, though, was on Draco.

Draco had gotten the quality of the wine every damn time. By now, the entire group was basing their guesses for the quality on whether or not Draco liked the wine—which was always correct. Pansy, their unofficial game master, had started counting those as half points. Though he knew the quality, Draco got the name wrong every time.

"What? You didn't bother checking the labels before you drank it, Drake?"

"Shut the fuck up, Blaise." But both Slytherins were laughing, so Harry didn't think Draco was actually angry. Pansy began to pour their next bottle.

"Oh, hush Drake, you're just pissy because you know you'll get wine drunk a hundred times faster than any of us." Blaise snorted, but Draco just stuck his tongue out at them. It didn't hit Harry until that very moment that the blond was slipping into an easier, more casual way of existing that made him seem much more... Human.

As always, Draco was positioned to be unattainable. Blaise had relaxed his hold a bit but kept touching the blond in sweet, little ways when no one else was looking. Pansy was on their right, and Luna on their left, but Harry honestly resented their typical seating arrangement.

It was bad, and probably impulsive, but Harry was like that without alcohol so it only made sense that he became more so as he drank. He couldn't help it... The longer they sat there, drinking and guessing, the more he wanted to be next to the blond, or at least near him. He wanted Draco to tipsily laugh into _his_ chest, not Blaise's, and he wanted to be the one that Draco reached out for to get their attention, not Pansy. Honestly, he just wanted to be able to reach the blond somehow.

It was a horrible idea—he knew that—but he was slightly tipsy and he didn't care anymore. Just as everyone turned to Luna for her guess, Harry let out a low hiss. It was barely audible, especially when the attention already wasn't on him… But Draco's head snapped up almost instantaneously. Those silver eyes bore into his him and the blond subtly rubbed at his left forearm, but he didn't look angry. Surprised, maybe, but not angry.

Tentatively, Harry hissed again. Now that their eyes were locked on one another, completely immune to the others in the room, Harry saw the Slytherin's pupils widen. It was addictive. He wasn't stupid enough to do it again, not without Draco's agreement at least, but it was enough. Just for a moment, he had Draco's complete, undivided attention.

"Shall we start the penalties, then?" Somehow, their results really hadn't changed. Pansy and Blaise were riding high with absolutely no penalties, Luna was close behind with Hermione, and then Draco, followed by the three Gryffindor boys who apparently had never drank wine in their lives. As much as he was dreading his penalty, Harry was almost giddy for Draco to take the dose. What would he ask?

"Who's first? Neville? Get it over with right off the bat? Ron? Harry?" They all avoided it, though, until Hermione volunteered to take her penalty first. She only had about two minutes worth—two wrong answers, because apparently there was something scientific that could be predicted—but she took it from Pansy without even blinking.

"Hey 'Mione, I was curious who's a better roommate: me or Luna?" Ah. Hermione didn't even bother to fight the Veritaserum, though, she just giggled.

"No offense but Luna because she keeps dried flowers everywhere and it always smells so good and I think she—"

"Hermione," Thankfully, she stopped, looking grateful for the interruption. "Remember when you raised your hand and said you'd had sex? Who and when?" That was the question. A good question, Harry thought, and he wished he'd thought of it but he was glad that Blaise was pushing for information now. Somehow, Blaise was more coherent than he was. When had that happened?

"I don't think I sh— fuck it was fifth year when the Durmstrang students were visiting and Victor and I were catching up and one thing led to another and—

"That's enough, 'Mione." Ron interrupted her, but Harry heard the hurt in his voice before the syllables even hit the air. Oh no. It was time to do damage control.

"Hey who's your crush, 'Mione?" The Gryffindor girl flushed beet red and gaped at him for a moment, as if she couldn't believe he'd really just asked that, but the Veritaserum was stronger.

"I… It's Ron, I'm sorry, I just—"

"What..?" Their little circle had gone deathly silent, but Ron seemed weirdly calm given the situation. Hermione was flushed, but her dose was fading and she managed to keep her mouth in check while everyone just gaped at them. Well, shit. Harry wasn't exactly sure what made him think that was a good question or why bluntness was suddenly the correct approach when he'd been dancing around the issue for years but…

"Ron's turn!" Pansy broke the silence and almost tackled Ron, dripping the Veritaserum into his mouth, but Harry just hoped that she had a plan. He sure as hell didn't.

"Hey Ron, quick question, who's your crush?" For the second time, the group watched Ron fight the Veritaserum but, like always, it won out in the end. Thank Merlin! Even Draco and Blaise seemed enthralled by this turn of events, and they hated Ron! It said a lot that their entire group was so dedicated to their relationship working out, honestly.

"I don't— I don't have.. I don't have, screw it! 'Mione I really like you and I—"

"That's enough, thank you Ronald. I'm going to do everyone here a favor and say that the next four minutes of Ron's penalty will be spent in the common room with Hermione. Have fun! Practice safe sex, kids!" Pansy waved them off like some kind of cool wine aunt, ignoring the way both of them flushed. She… Had they really just actually gotten Ron and Hermione together? After so many years of subtly? Of hints? Merlin…

"Wonderful! One down, two to go!" Harry wanted to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Pansy somehow got _more_ energetic with alcohol and she was already bouncing off to the next topic like a perky activities director. One down, two to go? But almost all of them still had to do their penalties? Definitely more than two...

"I'll go." All eyes went to Draco, who had gotten strangely quiet over the last few minutes of the game. Harry kicked himself for not noticing sooner. Maybe Draco felt more comfortable taking his penalty when Ron wasn't in the room? Regardless, he took the dose. His pupils widened just a bit and Harry wouldn't have noticed if their eyes hadn't been locked so intently on each other, and if he hadn't spent so much time over the last three days observing those silver rings. He knew them, even in a dark room.

"Hey Drake, I know we don't have long with you so I'm not going to waste time with any other questions. We'll get right to the point. True or false, you've been in love with someone for years and never told them?" Immediately, Draco paled. He looked to Blaise, clearly trying to hold his tongue, but both Slytherins were against him now.

"True." Pansy grinned.

"True or false, you think this person could never, ever like you back?" Draco was visibly uncomfortable, now, and both Neville and Luna seemed to take pity on him and at least looked away but Harry couldn't. Pansy and Blaise kept looking at him like he was supposed to know what was going on but he didn't. He definitely didn't. Draco looked like he wanted to cry.

"True." Another grin, but Pansy seemed less giddy about it now.

"Draco, who are you in love with?" Harry could see him struggling, could see him fighting tooth and nail against the Veritaserum, and it _hurt_. God, it hurt because he could feel Draco begging him for some kind of help. But he didn't know what to do.

"Who. Draco." They were running out of time and Draco was actually fighting it but…

"_Harry_…" Draco was begging him, now, and his chest ached. Until he realized that Draco had stopped talking. What about the answer? He couldn't have fought the Veritaserum, could he? Unless…

"What?" Pansy stood, dragging Blaise and Luna up with her, but Neville only needed a glare to get him moving. Before Harry even knew what was happening, he was alone with Draco. And Draco looked like he was about six second away from a panic attack.

"_Hey_," Harry couldn't have explained why he did it for the world, but his tongue just slipped and he began to hiss. "_Hey, it's okay, remember? We're not enemies anymore, remember?_" Draco didn't remember, clearly, or he didn't understand Parseltongue but Harry couldn't help reaching for the blond. The second he touched Draco, he went rigid. Not a good kind of rigid, either.

"Hey, breathe, I'm not going to hex you or anything. You know that, right?" Draco just stared at him, practically hyperventilating. "Draco, you know I'm not going to hurt you, right?" He didn't know that, though, and that was clear in his expression but _fuck_ if Harry didn't know that look. That paranoia, that distrust… Granted, he didn't know what it was because of or about but he knew it.

"Draco, look at me." Honestly, what the hell was he doing? He didn't know. That didn't stop him, though, because he was reaching for Pansy's bag and his hand had closed around that tiny little vial. Draco was watching him, eyes wide, though. Before he could look away, Harry took out the little dropper and squeezed a bit onto his tongue. Immediately, he felt it.

"Draco, look at me, okay? Look, I'm not going to hurt you, 'kay? I'm not gonna hurt you and I'm not going to hex you or curse you or yell or… I don't know! But I'm not going to do it, okay? Because I don't _want_ to. I don't _want_ to fight, I don't _want_ to hurt you, and I sure as _hell _don't want you to be afraid of me!"

"Why?" Merlin… Draco's voice was suddenly so small and anxious that Harry wanted to throw up. But the Veritaserum was eager to make his lips move, and he didn't fight it.

"Because I _like_ you, Draco! Or, I think I do… I want to know you, at least, and I have a crush on you even though I didn't want to but I just… I don't know. Sometimes I just really want to hug you." For twenty six seconds, Harry couldn't breathe. It wasn't because of the Veritaserum and it wasn't because of any spell but, to his utter surprise, Harry was waiting for Draco's answer. There wasn't even really a question but…

It felt like that first night all over again. Granted, that had only been two days ago but, still… Watching Draco display his Dark Mark, watching those beautiful, mercurial eyes beg him for some kind of olive branch. Begging him to put himself on the line, too. Well, hopefully Draco was satisfied because Harry felt pretty fucking on the line right now.

"You didn't want to have a crush on me?" Oh no… He'd said the wrong thing, clearly, because Draco was _not_ supposed to pick that one thing to focus on.

"No, that isn't what I meant I just—"

"Past tense?" Wait, what? What was that supposed to mean? As opposed to what?

"Wait, what do you mean past tense?" Clearly, the Veritaserum was wearing off. Harry had definitely not measured out a careful dose but the conversation had started, now, and there was no going back.

"You said you didn't want to have a crush on me. Past tense, as in you didn't want to, but now you do." When had Draco become the grammar police? He was focusing so hard on that one little word, which was maybe a drunk thing but wasn't a drunk _Draco_ thing… Why, though?

"I… I guess I don't hate it now? I don't know, you aren't that bad and it would just be nice to have a chance, maybe?" What was he _saying?!_ Harry cursed at himself internally, but Draco was fully focused on him.

"A chance?" Maybe it was the Veritaserum confession, or maybe it was the Parseltongue moments, but Draco reached out. A pale hand slipped into his, and then their fingers were intertwining. What, in the name of Godric Gryffindor, was—

"Okay. A chance, then." Draco squeezed, just a bit, but the sudden contact was like a drug in Harry's veins. He could have overdosed right then and there.

"Yeah, a chance."

* * *

Thanks so much for reading and thank you to everyone who's left a review! It means the world to me!


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